


Broil

by magickus



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Asphyxiation, Choking, Hyur Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Overstimulation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Squirting, Submission, Trans Male Character, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23920402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magickus/pseuds/magickus
Summary: He feels so small, so helpless, and yet when their eyes meet it comes with the understanding that onlyoneof them truly is in control.Another battle won, another battle lost. To the victor go the spoils.
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light
Comments: 2
Kudos: 80





	Broil

**Author's Note:**

> im nasty and im proud! im nasty and im proud!
> 
> barely proofread and unbeta'd so if it's an incoherent mess, i'm sorry. also, mind those tags people.

A hand on his head brings him to his knees. He goes down without resistance, kneeling in supplication before Zenos, who smiles at him warmly with ice cold eyes.

"You fight with such ferocity during our battles," Zenos observes. His hand travels through Claran's hair, petting the loose snowy strands, rubbing each soft lock like the finest silk between his fingers. Claran shivers at the touch. "Yet, here… You bend so easily for me. Where has all your hate gone, I wonder? You had only just begun to reach your potential, and now…" Zenos' smile turns sharp and wicked. "Now you bend to me."

The gentle touch in his hair goes tight as Zenos wrenches his head back and bares his throat. Claran gasps, trembling, as pain and heat crawl through the nape of his neck.

"You want someone to be in control of you," Zenos observes. He holds Claran prone, staring down at his face. The cold blue of his eyes chills him to his core but Claran cannot look away. "No— you _need_ it. You need to be a tool. You need someone to use you, Warrior of Light, whether that be for battle, or…" the corner of his mouth twitches, his eyes narrow in amusement, "...this."

Claran sucks in shaking breath. Zenos' hand lowers from his hair to his chin, gripping him between two fingers to force his gaze up. "Do I frighten you?" Zenos asks. His voice is soft, almost musical.

Claran shakes his head.

"Do you _want_ to be afraid?"

Claran bites his lip. That, he cannot answer.

"You are all but slaves to your instincts," Zenos whispers, turning Claran's head to examine him, like a prize animal put on display. "I thought you above such things."

Claran wets his lips with his tongue, aware of Zenos' eyes tracking his every motion. "What is pleasure… but another form of violence?" he asks, too bold and too eager. Zenos _grins,_ manic, hungry, and wild, like a beast charging into battle.

"If you desire so… I shall hunt you, Warrior of Light." A thrill shoots up Claran's spine and he leans forward, aching, into the curve of Zenos' fingers around his throat. He swallows and lets out the faint beginnings of a moan. Zenos' large hand encompasses his neck almost entirely. He feels so small, so helpless, and yet when their eyes meet it comes with the understanding that only _one_ of them truly is in control.

Another battle won, another battle lost. To the victor go the spoils.

Zenos crashes into him like a tidal wave. Claran sinks with it, moaning in gratitude as Zenos' mouth covers his. Zenos kisses like how he fights, hard and graceful, his teeth biting and scraping, his tongue forcing Claran's lips apart so it can delve into his mouth and taste him. Claran accepts it, limp and pliant in Zenos' hands as they grope and squeeze his flesh. He hands over his control willingly, without question. Zenos' teeth leave his lips to sink hard into the side of his neck and Claran moans at the ache, hips rocking forward in need.

A warm tongue slides over the stinging mark and when Zenos pulls back Claran can see blood on his teeth. He looks wild, dangerous. He says nothing, only growls and turns Claran around, shoving him down onto his front. Claran's hands scramble at the floor to lift himself up but Zenos takes both his forearms easily in one and holds them tight behind his back. Claran's cheek presses to the floor, his glasses crooked, breaths tight with excitement and fear and longing.

There's no foreplay, no teasing. They are not lovers and Zenos does not treat him as such. It's a dirty, hungry affair. Zenos shoves Claran's trousers down to mid-thigh, leaving him bare and constricted. He whimpers, a shock standing through him as gloved fingers find his slick folds. He's already wet and swollen and spread open, eager to be taken.

It's the only touch he gets before Zenos' cock fills him in one hard motion. He cries out. It aches and burns, too much too fast. He's stretched open wide and filled impossibly deep as Zenos spears him mercilessly on that thick, long cock, splitting him apart from the inside.

He pulls back and thrusts in hard and the bliss forces Claran to his peak, pleasure rocking through him. He gasps in ecstasy, his walls twitching and fluttering around the massive intrusion as he comes, muscles seizing. Zenos sets a hard, unforgiving pace. The plates of his armor slam against Claran's rear, leaving behind angry red marks that are sure to bruise delicate skin. The friction inside him sets him aflame and Claran presses his brow to the floor, sobbing weakly with pleasure and agony, his spine bowed under the strain of taking so much.

Zenos' free hand finds his throat once more and wrenches it up. Claran's desperate mewls choke off as his airway constricts, eyes wide and brimming with tears. Zenos uses the grip on his throat and arms to haul him back, yanking him onto every thrust, sending him in deeper and deeper. Claran can't breathe, can't think, can only stay limp and compliant as Zenos fucks him hard. It's another battle, one that Claran is too happy to lose.

The friction inside him builds up to another orgasm rending through him stronger than the last. Tears stream down his cheeks as his vision blackens at the edges, his head spinning as his body screams for breath. His abused pussy throbs with oversensitivity and yet Zenos still shows no signs of stopping.

Zenos leans forward and his hand slackens around Claran's throat. He coughs and swallows desperate lungfuls of air, his throat burning from the pressure. Zenos' hips snap forward and Claran lets out a hoarse cry, his voice cracked and strained. He sounds ruined. Zenos huffs and growls in his ear, his large form folded over Claran's smaller one, his oppressive weight settled against Claran's back. Zenos holds him perfectly still, using him like a toy.

Gods, it's so good. He needed this. Claran sobs and keens, rocking back onto Zenos's cock, greedy for more. Zenos chuckles in his ear and releases Claran's throat to reach between their bodies and find his clit. He presses against it hard and rubs, making Claran writhe and groan and cry for more. It's filthy and _wrong_ and it only makes Claran love it more— love _him—_

Zenos snarls and bites into the back of Claran's neck. The pain burns and Claran comes hard once more, whimpering, his thighs trembling as he clenches hard around Zenos' cock. Fluid gushes from his pussy, squirting out around his stretched hole. Claran twists in Zenos' grasp as he pounds in harder and harder, pushing Claran far past his limits, and all he can do is _take it._

Zenos' hips slam into his and finally go still, his cock nestled deep inside his hole as Zenos empties his load. Heat splashes against his insides as he's filled with seed, pumped full and bred. He can feel it leaking out his hole and down his thighs as Zenos pulls out of him with a soft groan. The hands holding him upright disappear and he collapses into the puddle of their mingling fluids, exhausted.

Zenos watches him coolly, no sign of his previous activity aside from his mussed hair and flushed cheeks. He looks as if he just finished a hard battle— but most fights don't wear him out like this. The Warrior of Light is the only one who can take him apart so profoundly.

Their eyes meet, and Claran does not look away. He smiles, shy and demure once more, his softness hiding the beast that lay in waiting beneath, prepared to strike.


End file.
